


Orderly

by songspinner9



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songspinner9/pseuds/songspinner9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post "Cyberwoman", Ianto's reactions to dealing with daily clean-up in the Hub and one reaction that is unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orderly

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: For Seasons 1 and 2 of Torchwood  
> Disclaimer: Don't own anything related to Torchwood, although I wouldn't mind a cup of Ianto's cofee on Monday morning...

Contrary to what most people would assume, Ianto Jones did not spend a great deal of time cleaning up his boss’ office. Tidying, perhaps, and making sure that things were where Jack could get to them easily. But not a lot of cleaning.

Owen’s desk and lab? Oh, yes. A frequent mess, with things in the refrigerator and cold-storage that Ianto wasn’t sure were actual, on-purpose experiments. There were usually piles of research journals mixed in with car magazines and the wrappers from candy bars, pub receipts, and a few folders from the archives Owen had asked for. Well, not so much usually asked for as bellowed for, but Ianto got them nonetheless. If certain cups of coffee hadn’t been completely, piping hot those afternoons, well…that was purely a coincidence. Ianto drew a line at cleaning up after the autopsies, though.

Gwen’s desk? Pamphlets and printouts from things she’d been investigating, open or scattered among paperwork she was nowhere near finishing. He put messages from the Heddlu De Cymru in the middle of her computer screen when he took them, since Gwen’s police connections were fairly vital to things around Torchwood 3. Cookie crumbs tended to be under the messy piles of paper, and she sometimes remembered to thank him after he’d cleared it all away.

Tosh tended to leave post-its all over her desk, ideas for things scribbled on them in the heat of the moment. After seeing her smile at the results the first time he did it, he made a habit of organizing them for her once in a while, once she’d gone home: little rows of yellow and green squares sorted by subject so that she could find the right idea in the morning when she came in. Postcards and letters from her mother came sporadically, and once Ianto knew about the reasons they came to Jack first, he made sure they were propped up against her monitor for her to see as quickly as Jack handed them over.

And Jack’s office? At the end of every day, the Captain automatically got things military-neat. Habit, he explained once to Tosh…with two Wars and previous military training that apparently hadn’t changed much over that many centuries. Even the piles of papers he procrastinated about and the occasional boxes of artifacts were fairly organized. Ianto did make a point of putting the most important paperwork on top of the stack for Jack to notice, though. And since Ianto always knew when Jack was out of coffee, the cups were regularly taken away when empty.

There were, though, several times that Jack had gotten as far as his office before dying or almost dying after a night hunting Weevils or something equally dangerous. Ianto knew Jack had figured out that he knew about the immortality fairly early on – he’d seen it in that first Weevil attack, after all. Cleaning up the blood on those nights was easy enough, but the strong impulse to help Jack wash blood and worse off his skin afterward surprised Ianto. Hatred about the orders to kill Lisa, or what was left of her was fading under soap and gently falling water. He hadn’t expected the gratitude in return, though.

Or for that matter, for Jack to return the favor after the disastrous trip to the Beacons, strong hands carefully avoiding bruises and cuts under the warm water at Ianto’s flat. His own mumbled thank-you’s that night were gently sheltered against a heartbeat that lulled him to sleep. Ianto woke alone, after more than once being half-awakened for a concussion check, to find a carefully folded pile of clean clothes waiting for him and one of those instant ice-packs from a med-kit waiting on top. Painkillers Owen had prescribed were on the little table next to the bed along with a bottle of water.

There was a little note, too.

 _Ianto –_

 _Rift alert but nothing big. Owen says you’re on 3 days medical leave. Back tonight to check on you. Will keep the Hub in one piece while you heal. I wish the world outside the Hub wasn’t this messy._

 _-Jack._


End file.
